


Calendar

by pinetreelady



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinetreelady/pseuds/pinetreelady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles have a falling out because Derek's insecure. Then they fix it, with a little help from Scott and Melissa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few weeks back, [elisera](http://elisera.tumblr.com/) and I were working on a 500-word prompt challenge. I wrote something sad and unresolved in response to the prompt "calendar," but I couldn't leave it that way, so I wrote this to make it better.
> 
> (Chapter 1 is the prompt fill, Stiles POV, and Chapter 2 is the resolution, Derek POV.)
> 
> Thanks to elisera and [sofonisba_found](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sofonisba_found/pseuds/sofonisba_found) for looking this over for me! Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Stiles is so mad. He’s sick of feeling like he never knows where he stands. Sick of getting happy and complacent only to have Derek make a cutting remark at Stiles’ expense. Sick of Derek acting weird and refusing to acknowledge it. Sick of him getting increasingly pissy when Stiles tries to talk to him about it, often with a lot of trepidation. 

Stiles knows that he’s no picnic. He’s too loud sometimes, moves too much and too big, says inappropriate things without thinking how they’ll sound. He’s impatient when people are slow to keep up. But he doesn’t think that any of those things are a good reason for Derek to be such a douche sometimes. 

The thing is, despite the occasional discomfort, Stiles feels happier when Derek’s around, relaxed and comfortable, safe. He likes that they’re making the effort at a long-distance relationship. But last night on the phone Derek was more taciturn than usual, snapped at Stiles, and cut him off after he started telling a funny story that happened in one of his classes and he’d trailed off uncertainly, hurt. 

It took awhile after they got off the phone for the hurt to recede and anger to grow in its place. But it did, and now he’s done with putting himself out there, opening himself up to this level of hurt. He’s done with his crappy werewolf not-boyfriend. Game over. Childishly he prints out a calendar page and labels today “first werewolf-free day of forever.” He marks every day with an “X” before going to bed at night.

Stiles keeps going to class and doing his work on autopilot. Three years ago he’d established himself an iron-clad routine to stay on top of college work and he’s glad of that now. It keeps him from slipping. He falls asleep at night only after exhausting himself at the gym. His friends drag him to parties and try to get him to hook up. But he only finds himself jumping at imaginary vibrations of his phone and looking too long at dark-haired guys, none of whom are remotely as attractive as Derek. 

He misses Derek. He’s seeing things in a different light after a few miserable Derek-free days. Maybe Derek’s cutting remarks were actually his attempts at humor. Dude could be socially awkward sometimes. Maybe he has shit going on that Stiles didn’t ask about because he didn’t want to push for more than Derek wanted to give. Stiles feels unmoored by self-doubt. Maybe what they had wasn’t perfect, but god, does he want it back.

He’s crossing off the 15th day on his calendar when it hits him that Derek’s made no attempt to reach him, either. Maybe it all meant so little to Derek that he hasn’t even noticed that anything’s changed. Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and resolutely goes back to his European history paper. He’s sure he’s done irreparable harm this time, and it makes him sick at heart.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek goes to drop off some paperwork for Scott and he thought he’d been careful to pick a time when no one was home. But Melissa’s there, and she kind of ambushes him. At least that’s what it feels like to him. In fact she just smiles at him, and he knows she’s smart, okay? Good at reading people. He feels exposed under her scrutiny, like she knows exactly what’s going on behind his careful mask. 

“Come on in, Derek, let me make you a sandwich.”

Derek’s not stupid. He knows an order when he hears one, no matter how it’s phrased. And the mother of his alpha is not exactly someone he can easily ignore.

He’s sitting at her counter, making an effort at ordinary conversation, talking about the paperwork he’s dropping off, the garden he’s planning for a big client, what he saw on his last run through the preserve.

“And how’s Stiles?” she asks when there’s a lull.

Derek feels his heart jump in his chest and heat flare on his neck. Keeping his face neutral, he shrugs a little and says, “Fine, last I knew,” with studied carelessness.

She narrows her eyes at him for a moment. “So you haven’t talked to him recently?”

“He’s busy with stuff at college. Things pick up junior year, I’m pretty sure.” Derek thinks his voice sounds pretty normal.

She nods, looking at him assessingly. “Yeah. But Scott said he seemed really down when he talked to him a couple of days ago.”

Derek’s traitorous heart feels like it’s pounding out of his chest, and he has to fight to keep his breath even. That can’t have anything to do with him. He’s sure of it. Derek raises his eyebrows a little at her, and she just looks at him, her face soft and open. 

“Scott says he asked him how things are going with you, and he clammed up. He thought maybe you guys had had a falling-out?”

Derek can’t speak, doesn’t think he could force words out if he tried, through the thickness in his throat, the heaviness in his chest. “I …” He pinches his lips together so he doesn’t give any more away. Damn Melissa’s perceptiveness. 

“Here’s how I see it,” Melissa says, infinitely gentle. “I think you guys both care about each other way more than either of you realize, or than you want to admit, to yourselves or to each other.”

Derek’s shaking his head before she even finishes speaking. “It was … it was a mistake, letting it get this far. I … I’m not good for him. I can’t be what he needs.”

“I think you need to let Stiles decide that, Derek, and not make the decisions preemptively.”

“I can’t. He’s … yeah, he’s a little shit, a complete pain in the ass, but he’s still got this enormous … vitality to him. I can’t infect that with my …”

“Derek. Don’t let fear rule you. Dare to want something. You guys are good together. Fight for him. Fight to make it work. He’s a stubborn kid, the type to stick with you. Yes, Derek Hale, even you.” She pauses, holding his gaze. “Just promise me you’ll talk to him, okay?”

~*~*~*~*~

Derek knows she’s wrong, but he still can’t get this conversation out of his head. He can’t possibly fix it, is the thing. He fucked it up irreparably, he knows that. Which is exactly what he wanted to do, to free Stiles, to let him go. So why can’t he get over this sick feeling, already? It dogs him day and night, makes him feel terrible. He can’t sleep. He runs more. Works more. Sticks his phone in a drawer and doesn’t look at it.

Derek had known this would happen, that it was only going to end in heartache, so he’d deliberately kept Stiles at arm’s length. Reminded himself that Stiles was young and wouldn’t be in this for the long haul, pushed himself to be prickly, contrary; fought against the impulse to be gentle or sweet. He let himself say unkind, thoughtless things, anytime he felt like he was getting too comfortable.

~*~*~*~*~

Scott shows up a few days later, and part of Derek has to admire how he strives to be diplomatic. He knows that Scott’s loyalty has to lie with Stiles, but he still manages to treat Derek respectfully. It’s quite a feat, and Derek wishes he could appreciate it more around the ache in his heart. 

“Hey, Derek. thanks for dropping those papers off the other day. My mom said you guys had a nice visit?”

Derek looks at him carefully but it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to trick Derek into opening up. 

Derek nods stiffly. “It was nice.”

“So, hey, I’m not trying to get all in your business, but I …” his smile flags a little. “I’m wondering if you’ve talked to Stiles?”

Derek’s at least prepared for it this time. He still feels sick at the thought of Stiles, but thinks he keeps his heartbeat and his voice steady as he says, with as much finality as he can muster, “No, I haven’t.” He looks as Scott as evenly as he can before adding, “Was there anything else?”

Scott’s shoulders slump, and Derek’s rarely seen him look so serious. “Derek, man, don’t be like this, please. You’ve gotta fix this. Stiles … you know Stiles. He’s crazy about you, and this is eating him up inside.”

Derek closes his eyes a moment and breathes out through his nose. “Scott. This … you have to believe me. I made a stupid mistake, an error in judgment, getting involved with Stiles in the first place. I should never have …”

“That’s bullshit, Derek, and you know it! Stiles doesn’t let a lot of people in, but you’re one of those people, and this is killing him. You have to believe me. And please … please try to fix it.”

“Stiles … it’ll be better if he moves on. He needs someone better than me, Scott.”

“Derek, Jesus, you can’t believe that shit. Or if you do, you need to … I don’t know, man, you need to stop it, and realize that Stiles … he wants you. Not some mythical person you think is better, just because they’re not you.” 

~*~*~*~*~

Derek doesn’t know what they honestly expect him to do. Fix this? How? He has no idea what words he could use if he called up Stiles right now. He can’t just … start a conversation with him. Doubts Stiles would even take a call from him. He’s probably blocked his number anyway. And it’s not like he can just show up, the very idea is laughable. What, at his dorm room? He’d probably get thrown out. Someone would call security. 

He desperately misses Stiles. And his base desire to see Stiles again happens to align perfectly with a direct order from his alpha. So. 

Finally he goes. Tells Scott, to get him off his back. Calls in and asks for a day off from his boss, and then he just gets in his car, drives to Berkeley, tries not to think at all. 

He shows up in front of Stiles’ student apartment building, and the door is propped open, so he heads in. He’s visited Stiles here before so he knows where to go, but doesn’t know if Stiles will be there (he’d resisted learning the finer points of Stiles’ schedule) or what he’ll say if he is. 

Stiles opens his door, and seeing his face is like being punched in the gut. It’s not an exaggeration to say that Stiles looks awful. Thinner. Circles under his eyes. Hair a little greasy. Just … not quite right. He gapes at Derek. “Am I dreaming? Are you really here?”

God, Derek wants him so much. Wants to take him in his arms and just never let go of him ever again. He can’t do that, he knows, but he can … try … something?

“Stiles. I. I fucked up.” That’s not what he meant to say, exactly, but it makes Stiles’ mouth fall open, and doesn’t make him slam the door in Derek’s face, so he’ll count it as a win. 

Stiles stares at him but doesn’t say anything for a long few moments. Then he appears to gather himself and blurts out, “You look terrible.”

Derek nods. “You too.”

Stiles shakes himself, and grabs his arm to drag him into the room. Shoves him in the direction of the bed, paces in front of him. Derek sits stiffly on the edge. 

“Derek. I’m seriously pissed off, I miss you, and I want you back in my life, but you can’t just … vanish my hurt feelings away through the power of your will and like, scowling. You hurt me. I was a mess. I AM a mess. I want nothing more than to have you back in my life, but I’m too scared and hurt. I need to think. I don’t want to just … leap into this again.”

And there it is, the rejection he knew was coming. Derek closes in on himself, drops his eyes, goes very, very still. Tries to figure out how to continue living now, bleak days stretching endlessly ahead of him, Stiles-free. 

Stiles sits on the bed, too. Not touching him, but there. “Derek. I don’t really know what to say to you right now. But there’s a lot you don’t seem to understand. I’d been crushing on you forever, before we finally started our … thing. And even once it started, I still could never believe that we were actually together. I was always waiting for you to decide I was too annoying. And then, once you … you know, a couple of weeks ago, I just figured I had proven myself right. But I kept missing you anyway. As much as this hurts, being away from you, not having that anymore, I’ve realized that I was always on fucking eggshells and I … that’s a shitty way to be, in a relationship.”

“But Stiles. You’re. You’re way better than this. I …” Derek forcibly bites his tongue, sure he can’t be hearing this right. Stiles was just indulging him till he found someone better, smarter, more well-adjusted. Better for him not to get too attached, but that didn’t work, did it. “I don’t want you to be anything but yourself,” he finally says. “But it’s not about … me. You need to be with … someone better.”

“Stop with the self-denial routine, Derek. Let’s start with the basics. Do you … do you want to be with me?”

That’s a no-brainer. He rolls his eyes. 

“Derek. I need words. What I’m getting from you rolling your eyes at me is that you think I’m an idiot, and I’m sorry, but my interpretation of that is that you’re saying, who’d want to be with an idiot?”

Derek gapes at him. 

“And that look says that there are no words to describe how stupid you think I am.”

“Stop it, Stiles. Stop … putting words in my mouth. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Derek, what you’re saying is NOTHING, so start talking. I can’t have a conversation to fix this if you won’t fucking participate. I don’t know why I’m bothering, I swear to GOD, if I hadn’t been so stupidly miserable for the past two weeks I’d just … move on.”

“You should.” Derek grits out, like the words are fighting not to come out. 

“Fuck YOU, Derek! Do I mean nothing to you? Am I wasting my time? If you’ve regressed to … sub-verbal, I think I am.”

Stung, knowing he’s being goaded, Derek starts talking. “Yes, Stiles, I want to be with you, god. The last two weeks have been hell. I miss you so much it hurts, okay? But that’s just … that’s just more evidence that this is WRONG for us.” And now that the words have started it’s like he can’t hold them back anymore. “I suck at this. I was making you sad. I could tell how much I hurt you when I said … shitty things, or acted like I didn’t care. You … you deserve better, Stiles, someone young and fun and not fucked up and broken inside. Someone who doesn’t act bitter and petty but who appreciates how you’re funny and witty and just … Every time you told me some funny little story about your life here it felt like one more reason that I’m no good for you. You have all this … potential, and I’m just ...”

“Wait, back up, how, exactly, is the fact that we’re both hurting more evidence that being together is a bad idea? Because, dude, I know from shitty breakups, and let me tell you, by this point I’ve always been well on my way to recovery. If this didn’t mean anything to me I’d have been able to move on at least a little. But I don’t think I’ve even fucking SMILED since … since …”

At that, Derek can’t keep himself from reaching for his hand, and Stiles lets him take it. He squeezes, gently, and strokes his thumb over Stiles’ knuckles. 

Stiles draws a shuddering breath. “Derek, babe, the solution isn’t to break up, you big dork. It’s to talk about this shit. Talk about the fact that we mean so much to each other that we’re both paralyzed by fear that we’re fucking up, or we’re scared that the other one of us doesn’t feel the same way.”

Derek still doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to take this in.

“Is any of this making any sense to you? Or …” Stiles’ face falls minutely. “Am I putting wrong words to your feelings again?” He goes to pull his hand away, but Derek grips it convulsively.

“NO, Stiles,” Derek manages to whisper. “No, you’ve got it. But can you … can you … I was …”

“I don’t think I can NOT forgive you, Derek. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, okay? Like even if you blow me off for good, and we go our stupid separate heartbroken ways, I don’t think I could hate you. But. We can’t do this again.” He pauses and takes a breath, then blurts out, “Will you think about maybe … finding a therapist? So I don’t have to play guessing games about your feelings anymore?”

Derek reels a little. And yet. He’s willing to do what it takes. Somewhere along the line, today, something sank in, the fact that Stiles really wants this, wants him, and he realizes he won’t let Stiles go without doing whatever it takes. Before he can answer, Stiles barrels on. 

“Look, I’m not … making it a requirement, or anything. I just. I think you’d be happier, too, if we could do this, talk about our goddamn feelings, without it being the result of a massive crisis. I’m really glad you came here today. But you showing up to talk is ... only a start, if we’re going to make this work. It can’t take two weeks of misery and breaking up to have a simple conversation. This can’t be a pattern, Derek. We have to do better.”

Derek hears this as he, himself, having to do better, and it’s probably the truth. He nods, eyes not leaving Stiles’.

“Can we start over? But maybe next time if you get insecure or scared, maybe you can try to tell me that, instead of just being a dick? I can’t let you hurt me like that again. And if I’m being annoying, or an asshole, just … call me on it, instead of being mean.” 

Derek doesn’t look away. “I promise I’ll try. I’ll try to talk to you. And find … someone. Maybe Melissa could recommend … I don’t want to go through this again. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in … so long. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Stiles moves closer, and Derek brings his hand to his mouth, grazes his lips across Stiles’ fingers, laced through his own. “And Stiles? I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, too.” It feels terrifying, saying it aloud, but exhilarating, like the opening up of possibilities. Like forever.


End file.
